Trust
by I Heard A Voice
Summary: The only person he trusts is the one he never thought he could. HPDM. T for later chapters. Read, review, enjoy. Updates will be as frequent as I can make them.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Trust

Rating: T for future chapters.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, the novels, films, books on tape, video games or future theme park. In fact, I have no connection to any of it, except some of it was filmed in the cathedral near me and I live sort of near where J.K. Rowling used to live.

Summary and pairing: The only person he trusts is the one he never thought he could. Harry/Draco.

Authors note: The italic paragraphs at the start of the story show that the event takes place at the very end of the story. The rest of it switches between the "present" and flashbacks to the summer. The switches will always be indicated like **_this_**. Please take the time to review this, your comments on the events and character portrayal are important to me. Any constructive criticism is appreciated, it's how I improve myself as a writer! But mostly, I want you to enjoy it :)

* * *

_He stood before the doors to the Great Hall, palms sweaty, his heart fluttering. His throat was dry and he felt ill._

_"They don't even matter," a voice to his left quietly reassured him. "It's no different to yesterday. Nobody in that room matters, except for us." He took the pale hand offered by the speaker, a final deep breath, and then Harry and Draco entered the Great Hall, together._

_**6 months earlier**_

"I can't believe you fancy her," Hermione said, shaking her head in disbelief. The three had just returned from their first Defence against the Dark Arts lesson with their new teacher.

"What's not to like? She's young, pretty…"

"And I'm sure her chest helps, obviously. Oh come on Ron, don't feign innocence, I saw you gawping."

"Well, if you're not going to get them out… There are only so many girls in this school I can fantasize about."

"Is Lavender one of the elite few?"

"Don't need my imagination for that," he said with a huge smirk on his face.

"Ron! That's shocking! I'm sure Harry wouldn't be so crude."

"He better not be, his last girlfriend was my sister. Right, Harry? Oi, Harry!" Throughout their discussion, Harry had been staring into space, hardly noticing anything around him. "He's in one of his funny moods again. Flash him, Hermione, maybe then he'll snap to it."

"Ha ha. Better luck next time." She put her hand on his shoulder. "Are you sure you're okay, Harry?"

"Hmm? Oh I'm fine, never better." Hermione didn't look very convinced. "You've been acting strangely for ages."

"Yeah mate, what's going on?"

"I'm fine, honestly." Hermione and Ron exchanged looks. "Seriously, I'm fine. I just don't find discussions about our new teacher and her breasts riveting at the moment." Ron shrugged and walked off to talk about Professor Blair's upper body with Dean and Seamus.

"Harry, what's going on? Is it…" She indicated his scar.

"No, for once it's nothing to do with him."

"Is it the whole Ginny situation?"

"It's not that either. Honestly, Hermione, don't get yourself worried. I'm just feeling a bit off."

"I know, and if you just told me what was going on, we could work it out. I won't tell Ron, if that's a problem."

"No, it's just…" Harry stopped talking to watch someone walk past. Hermione spun around to see who it was, but they'd gone.

"You fancy someone, don't you?" she said, a broad smile across her face.

"If only it were that simple," he said, sighing. Hermione frowned, but decided to drop the issue.

"Right, suit yourself. Fancy getting some lunch?"

"Not hungry," he mumbled.

_**The summer**_

He hadn't planned on meeting Malfoy. It was typical that the day he decided to go to Diagon Alley without his two friends would be the day that he bumped into the one person he didn't want to see. They were sat at tables next to each other at the Leaky Cauldron, and Harry certainly hadn't planned on talking to him. But when the sun broke through the clouds, it highlighted a bruise blooming on Malfoy's cheek, marring the flawless skin.

"What the hell are you staring at, Potter?" Malfoy asked, full of contempt.

"Nothing," Harry said, going back to his Butterbeer. To his immense surprise, the Slytherin got up and sat at his table.

"Where's Weasley and Granger? Have they abandoned you? Aw, poor little Harry, none of your friends like you."

"Funny, I don't see any of your so-called friends with you, Malfoy." A tense silence followed. "Looks like we're in the same boat." Draco smiled a little at that.

"Who would've thought it? Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and Draco Malfoy, son of the most prominent Death Eater, drinking together."

"Almost makes you wish Rita Skeeter was here, doesn't it?" The two laughed. "Draco?"

"Oh, we're on first-name terms now, are we? Before you know it, we'll be coming up with pet names. What is it, sugarlump?"

Harry ignored that. "What happened?"

Draco sighed. "Could you possibly be more vague, Harry?"

He ignored that too. "I mean, the bruise. What happened?" And, almost as if someone had switched off a light, Draco's mood changed.

"Mind your own business, Potter." He finished his Butterbeer and gathered his stuff up together, then stormed out into the street, where the weather had suddenly turned. Harry, who was still looking out of the window, saw Draco walking down the street before stopping off in an alcove and pull, what he could only assume was a cigarette from a packet. He watched, confused, as Draco attempted to light it with a Muggle lighter, but the now near horizontal rain and gusts of wind kept blowing it out. Making a sudden decision that he knew he'd most likely regret, Harry got up and left the pub, heading for Malfoy.

"Need a light?" He held his wand out which had a small flame burning. Draco hesitated, then lit the cigarette and nodded a brief thanks. "Why didn't you just use magic?"

Draco took a drag, coughed and pulled a face. "I hate these Muggle cigarettes, but they're all I could find." He tapped the ash onto the floor, being careful not to get any onto Harry's scruffy trainers. "God Potter, you'd think that by the time you're 17 you'd learn to dress yourself." Harry rolled his eyes. "I didn't use magic because the Ministry's banned me from doing any until I'm in school, no thanks to my father." He took another drag and breathed away from Harry's face. "That man ruins so much for me."

"Did he…" Harry indicated the bruise.

"Wasn't it obvious enough to you that I don't want to talk about it? Honestly, you're just like a child."

"Fine, I won't ask you about it again." Draco clapped his hands sarcastically. "I was wondering, do you want to go shopping?"

"What the hell do you think we're doing now, Potter?"

"Well, you're smoking, I'm getting wet and we're both slowly developing cancer, but I understand your point. I meant, do you fancy doing some Muggle shopping?"

Malfoy laughed. "And how, exactly, do you plan on paying? As far as I remember, the currency isn't quite the same." Harry produced a card from his back pocket. Draco took it. "What is it?"

"It's a debit card. Once I realised that my aunt and uncle weren't likely to give me any money and I was in need of new clothes, I got one set up and made an arrangement with Gringotts. Every month, some of the money from my account is exchanged for Muggle money, and that goes into this account, enabling me to buy the things I need." He took the card back.

"Those clothes are new?" Draco stared in disbelief.

"Not the point. Are you up for seeing London the Muggle way?"

Draco thought for a while and then, in a tone of voice that made it clear this was killing him, accepted. "All right. Fine. But only because nobody we know is going to see us." Harry shook his head, smiling.

"Done. Follow me, pumpkin."

"Call me that and I will rip your head off."

"Sweetheart? Dumpling? Honey bunny?"

"I'm not kidding, Potter. It'd be worth going to Azkaban if it shuts you up."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters or products associated with Harry Potter. Don't rub it in.

Author's note: For more information about the story, or if you're confused about the format of the story, check out the Author's notes on the first chapter. Thanks to all those who have reviewed so far, hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the first. Read, review and enjoy!_**

* * *

September**_

"Well, that wasn't too bad for a first week, was it?" Harry took a seat in a chair by the fire.

"As far as first weeks go, it could've been worse," Ron agreed, pushing a first year out of the seat opposite Harry's. "What're you looking at, Hermione?"

"There's a notice on the board. It says there's a Halloween ball for the seventh years in order to improve 'inter-house relations'."

"Dean hardly needs that," Ron said under his breath to Harry. "He's with that Hannah girl in Hufflepuff. Getting quite serious, apparently," he added, winking.

"Honestly, Ron." Hermione dragged a chair over by the two boys and frowned at Ron. "How do you know?"

"He told me," Ron said, as if that was obvious.

"Oh yeah, and boys never lie about their sexual conquests. How far did you get with Lavender, did you say?" Ron turned red. "Anyway, back to this dance. It says you've got to come in costume. Doesn't have to be scary, just a costume."

"Fingers crossed for someone dressing up as a belly dancer then," Harry joked.

"Knowing our luck, it'd be Eloise... Or Draco," Ron said bitterly. "He seems the type to dress up as a girl, doesn't he?"

"What does that mean," Hermione demanded.

"Well, you know, he is quite..." Ron searched for the word. "Oh you know, he is quite..."

"Gay?" Hermione answered. Ron nodded. "Well, he's not. He was going out with Pansy Parkinson for ages, wasn't he?"

"Ah, but that was so we wouldn't realise. Failed at that, didn't he Harry?"

"I have to agree with Ron here, Hermione. He is quite effeminate, isn't he?"

Hermione shook her head. "I can't see it, but..."

"You won't let yourself see it, that's different. I thought girls were supposed to be able to sniff out gay boys," Ron teased. "Or did hanging out with Viktor throw your sensors off?" At this, Hermione huffily went to sit somewhere else.

"Too far," Harry muttered.

"Tough," Ron said by way of an argument. Harry sighed.

"You need to learn where to draw the line, mate. She's never made fun of Lavender, has she?" After a long pause, Ron shook his head begrudgingly. "So why should you make fun of Viktor? You're the one who fancied him," he added, punching him lightly on the shoulder so he know he was just kidding.

"I suppose. So, you going to go to this dance with anyone?"

"Depends. You going to ask Hermione?"

"Why would I?"

"Remember the Yule Ball in our fourth year?"

Ron shuddered. "Don't. You think I should?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Up to you. Or you could wait for Lavender to take you back," he suggested.

"Not a chance. I don't know about taking anyone. I'll ask around, if anyone else is, I'll ask Hermione. If not, I'll not bother."

Harry frowned. "Why would you only ask her to go with you if someone else is going with another person?"

"Don't want people talking, do I?"

"Like they don't already," Harry scoffed.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"What do you think?"

"I couldn't begin to guess."

"You're stupider than I thought then," Harry said.

"What do they say?"

"That's for me to know and you to wonder about, dear Ronald. Now go and apologise."

_**That summer**_

To both of their surprise, Harry and Draco actually had a good time going shopping. Highlights included Draco's discovery of Topman and Starbucks.

"It's like... Heaven in a cup!" he exclaimed after consuming a latte in record time. As they left the café, Harry noticed the time.

"I've got to go home, I get a phone call from my uncle at half seven every night to make sure I'm not having too much fun, and the train and bus rides take about two hours."

"Where is he?" Draco asked. Harry indicated the milk foam moustache Draco was sporting.

"My aunt, uncle and cousin went to Spain for a week and didn't think I would want to join them."

"Did you?" Draco questioned, wiping the milk off his top lip.

"Like it would matter if I did," Harry said bitterly. "I can't imagine a hell worse than seven days in the company of the Dursleys in a foreign country. Except for spending a whole day shopping with Draco Malfoy," he joked.

"So how do I get back? It's not like I know the city very well, after all. Or is this the culmination of the day, you leaving me to work out how to get back on my own?"

Harry looked shocked. "I know I hate you and all, but not so much that I'd abandon you. I'll take you back to the Leaky Cauldron and then you can make your way home from there by yourself, surely."

Draco hesitated. "The thing is..." Harry raised his eyebrows. Draco sighed. "The thing is, my father's... away, and my mother is visiting family. I'm all alone, and I have been for three weeks, and frankly I'm sick of it. Why else would I have started talking to you?"

Harry looked confused. "What are you suggesting I do then?"

Draco shuffled his feet. "Well, I was sort of wondering if I could, you know... Stay at your house tonight. Just for tonight, though."

"Are you actually asking if you can stay over?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Well, yes. Don't give me that look, Potter. I'm desperate, and to be honest, I actually enjoyed today, which surprised me."

"Join the club," Harry said, smiling. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't break the terms of mine and my uncle's agreement. I wouldn't be having too much fun." He laughed, but upon seeing Draco's face, stopped. "Just joking, I had fun today." He took a deep breath and began to weigh up the possible outcomes of the situation.

"For God's sake, it's a yes or no answer. It's not like I'm asking you for the meaning of life."

"42."

"Forty- what the hell are you on about, Potter?"

"It's in a book, the meaning of life is... Oh forget it, you're not likely to read it, are you? Yes, it's fine."

"What's fine?"

"You can stay over tonight. But you've got to promise me one thing."

"Name it."

"You explain that," Harry said, nodding at the bruise on Draco's cheek.

"No deal, Potter."

"Fine. Have fun on your own tonight, then." Harry made as if to walk away.

"Wait." Draco took a deep breath and looked around him, as if searching for a sign. "I'll tell you, but you've got to promise to keep it to yourself."

Harry looked amazed that Draco agreed to his terms. "Of course. Shall we get the train then?"

"I suppose so."

"Right. Follow me, don't get lost, and for God's sake- don't draw too much attention to yourself when we get to my street. They think I don't have any friends."

"They're right."

"I can still leave you in the middle of London, Draco. You'd best be nice to me."

Draco sighed. "Fine. How could they possibly think you have no friends, you're obviously such a catch," he said sarcastically.

Harry decided to ignore the tone. "Because they think I go to St Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys."

Draco laughed. "Sounds right up Snape's street."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

Author's note: Here is where the big questions are answered- what caused Draco's bruise? Why is he being nice to Harry? And why do we shippers feel that these two make such a good couple? Okay, that question will never be answered- it's our version of "Who is the Mona Lisa really of?" I'm sure a lot of you are confused as to why Draco's a bit out of character (read: not a complete twat, pardon the language), and this chapter should clear that one up for you all :

I must also apologise for taking so long to update, with hindsight, perhaps it wasn't the best plan to start writing a story right in the middle of my GCSEs...

This chapter also ups the ante with some naughty words because Draco just can't control his mouth.

Anyway, enough of that, read, review, enjoy!_**

* * *

**__**That summer**_

"This... TV. It's shit, really it is," Draco said with disgust, turning the offending item off.

"Not all of it is," Harry defended, putting a bowl of popcorn between him and Draco. "What were you watching?"

"Trisha, I think," Draco said, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

"Ah, well fair enough then," Harry said, laughing.

"What do we do now?" Draco tucked himself up into Uncle Vernon's chair.

"Well, you can tell me about that bruise," Harry said. Draco sighed and untangled himself.

"Fine. After I failed my little... task, Father got some of his friends to 'teach me a lesson', as it were."

Harry's eyes widened. "Looks like you got off easy," he remarked.

Draco laughed bitterly. "No, they just weren't so careful this time." He looked out of the patio doors to make sure no-one else was watching, and took of his shirt. His body was covered in bruises and cuts. "Magic is more efficient, but physical abuse leaves a more lasting reminder. They usually only hit me where nobody would see the bruises, but one of them got a bit over-zealous last night. The worst thing about the ban the Ministry put on me using magic is that all of these have to heal naturally."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "You can't let them do this to you, you should tell the Ministry!"

Draco scoffed. "Yeah, they're going to be so sympathetic to my plight. 'Poor little Draco, he didn't do what he was told and kill Dumbledore, one of the most respected wizards in the magical world, and his nasty daddy got his friends to beat him up.' If you think they'd be at all interested in what's happening to me, you need to grow up."

"They shouldn't get away with this."

"And you shouldn't have survived when Voldemort tried to kill you, but you did."

"But it's not fair, grown wizards against a 17 year old."

"No, it's not. Nothing is any more. It's not fair that my father got sent away when others are allowed to walk the streets, it's not fair that you have friends who remain by your side and mine wouldn't think about defending me if their parents told them not to, it's not fair that I am only ever seen as a future Lucius Malfoy, it's not fair that I have to be cold hearted and bigoted just to survive, NONE OF IT IS FAIR! I didn't ask for this life, Harry. The way I act has been forced on me since I was born. I know that you are a nice person, actually. You're kind, and loyal, and brave, and all of those qualities are so admirable. I know all of this, but I was taught by my father to see you as the enemy, because you caused Voldemort's downfall. I don't have anything against your friends, Harry, but I was taught to regard Hermione as filth because she's a Muggle, and cast the Weasleys off as traitors because one of them years ago married a Muggle. I have to make myself think this in order to survive, Harry, you have to understand that. I don't truly believe any of it. I have to feel that way about you three."

"But why? What's stopping you from being honest?"

"Because if I don't, my father," his voice broke, "my own father would turn me into Voldemort, if he hadn't killed me first. It's all a front, Harry. I can't be myself at school because everyone in my house has ties to Death Eaters, and if even a tiny action of mine that shows anything other than support for them and Voldemort gets back to any of the Death Eaters, I wouldn't be on this world long enough to try and persuade them otherwise."

"So... What does this mean?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"It means that I have inadvertently trusted someone I shouldn't speak to, except to make fun of. You alone know how I truly feel, and what I really think. My life lies in your hands, and if I hear that you've told anyone, I swear, I will kill you, because going to Azkaban with your blood on my hands is so much better than going to Voldemort in disgrace."

"You can trust me, Draco, I promise you."

"I don't have much choice now, do I?"

_**In school**_

"I couldn't do it." Ron threw his bag onto the table and sat on the seat opposite Harry's.

"Couldn't do what?" Harry asked through a mouthful of food.

"I couldn't ask Hermione to the dance." Harry swallowed and opened his mouth to make a comment, but Ron stopped him. "It's just... I would've been asking her for the wrong reasons. It would've just been as a pathetic apology for the Yule Ball, and she deserves more than that. It's not like I would've danced with her, anyway. It wouldn't be fair."

Harry shook his head and sighed. "Honestly, you're such a wuss."

"Harry, I'm doing this out of kindness, not because I'm too scared to ask her."

"I wouldn't bet on her taking it that way, it kind of seems like you're blowing her off. Again."

"Well, I'm not. And it's not out of fear, because that would imply that I fancied her. Which I don't."

"You keep telling yourself that, Ron, and we'll all pretend to believe you."

"Don't tell me you think I fancy her, please Harry."

"Fine. I won't tell you that I think you fancy her. I'll let everyone else tell you that," Harry said and poured himself another glass of pumpkin juice.

"So, what about you?" Ron said, keen to step out of the limelight. "Are you asking anyone?"

Harry stretched and sighed. "Don't think so."

"You could always take Ginny," Ron suggested. Harry gave him a look that said, 'Are you kidding?' "Or... Maybe not," Ron finished lamely. "Hey, you could take Hermione!"

"I'm not the one who ruined the Yule Ball for her, so I wouldn't take her, seeing as this is just an apology, right?" Ron opened his mouth, paused, and shut it again. "Besides, I'm not the one who's madly in love with her," he teased. "Nah, there isn't anyone I want to go with, to be honest."

Ron frowned. "You're lying."

Harry looked puzzled. "What? No I'm not!"

"Yes, you are. You looked away after you said 'There's no-one I want to go with,' then you bit your lip and looked at the floor. You always do that when you're lying about something. 'No, my scar isn't hurting,' 'Of course I don't fancy your sister,' 'Cho Chang, who's she?'I've been you r friend for the last seven years, you'd think I'd know you well enough by now to work out when you're lying."

"Just because you've worked out there's someone I want to go with doesn't mean I'm going to tell you who they are."

"Aw, go on. Just a hint."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"I'm your best friend, we're supposed to know everything about each other."

"We're not girls, Ron, knowing everything about each other isn't a requirement for us."

_**That summer**_

The next morning started way too early for Draco's liking. He was woken by having the curtains ripped open, allowing an obscene amount of light to burn his retinas.

"God almighty, Potter, I feel bad for whatever girl you manage to trick into living with you."

"And a good morning to you, too. Coffee?"

"Whatever it takes for you to pull those fucking curtains over."

"No deal, they're staying open. Now, coffee? Tea?"

"Please, please... Stop being so..."

"Lovely? Kind? Considerate?"

"Awake."

Harry smiled. "Not a morning person, are we?"

"You guessed," Draco mumbled. "Don't suppose there's a chance of me being able to sleep in a few more minutes?"

"Nope. We need to get a fairly early train in, it'll be mad."

Draco rubbed his eyes and looked blearily around. "Why?"

"It's the summer. London will be swamped with tourists, trust me. We need to get the bus to the train station in about an hour, so get up."

Draco groaned and fell back onto the bed Harry had given up for the night. "Fine." He furrowed his brows when a thought suddenly struck him. "Harry?"

Harry turned around, his shirt in his hands, clad in only his boxers. "Yes?"

"Number one, please put some more clothes on." Harry rolled his eyes. "Number two..." Draco paused. "Well, basically, I don't have any clean clothes."

Harry frowned. "Just wear the clothes you wore yesterday, they'll be fine."

"And the boxers?"

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Erm... Lend me a pair? I'll have them washed afterwards, don't worry."

"If you take them you might as well keep them." Harry threw a new pair over to Draco.

"Cheers."

"Don't mention it. Seriously."

"I wouldn't."

After the two had breakfasted and washed, Harry decided it was time that they head for the bus stop. They managed to catch the bus they wanted to the train station, and grabbed the back seat. They sat in silence for most of the ride there, until Draco suddenly spoke in a tone that seemed to imply that he'd been considering what he was going to say for a very long time.

"I really liked being able to be honest with someone for once," he said in a way he clearly hoped sounded off-hand. "Shouldn't get too used to it, though," he laughed nervously. Harry smiled slightly and continued to stare out of the window. Draco paused for a while before swallowing and speaking again. "It would be really good to be able to be honest again, just to get it out of my system. Otherwise it'll all spill out in a rush like last night."

"Draco..." Harry sighed. "I'm sorry, but my aunt and uncle and cousin are coming back tonight, and they can't find you there when they arrive. In any other situation-"

"No, it's fine," Draco said, trying to appear nonchalant. "It can't be helped." The rest of the bus ride was in silence, and they didn't speak much on the train journey either.

It was only as Harry brought Draco to the Leaky Cauldron that the subject was mentioned again.

"Well, I suppose you can find your way back from here," Harry said, waiting for Draco to go through the doors. "Er... Bye, it was nice, actually." He smiled, waved, and turned around to leave.

"They're coming tonight," Draco said to Harry's retreating back. Harry stopped. "They come every night, and since I wasn't here yesterday..."

Harry sighed. "Draco, I'm sorry, but-"

"Please. Please let me stay, just one more night." Harry shook his head slowly and continued to walk on. "Harry, please. I'm begging you. Harry, you can't leave me, you can't let them do this to me, you said so yourself."

Harry bit his lip, whispered, "I'm sorry," and walked on, trying to ignore Draco's desperate calls and the burning in his throat.

When he finally arrived home, he felt guilty. He should have at least tried to help him, but he just couldn't be bothered. It's not like letting him stay one more night would've fixed the problem, Harry reassured himself. If anything, it would've made it worse. And his aunt and uncle wouldn't react too well to him inviting someone around.

Harry watched TV to try and forget how desperate Draco had sounded as he was begging Harry to let him stay just one more night. Eventually, half seven rolled around and his aunt and uncle hadn't rung to say they would be on their way home, as Vernon had (frequently) reminded Harry they would be doing.

Suddenly, he heard the sharp sound of talons on a window. He looked out and saw a tawny owl carrying a letter. Harry leaned over and opened the window, took the letter, and the owl flew off. Harry inspected the handwriting, but didn't recognise it. It was too early for Hogwarts to be sending letters out, surely? He opened it, still puzzled, and read the short paragraph that followed, clearly written in a hurry.

_They're coming for me, Harry. I can hear their footsteps on the floors. There's only ten of them, that's all there ever is, but the sound of their boots is mixing with my heartbeat and it sounds like there's a thousand of them. I'm hiding again, but I'm running out of places and they always check the old places first. They're coming up the staircase and along the landing, it's only a matter of time, and it'll be so much worse tonight. They could kill me, and nobody would know. I can see their feet in the gap between the floor and the bottom of the door. I can hear them talking, I can smell them, I can taste blood in my mouth from where I've bitten the corner of my lip, it won't be the first time I taste blood tonight, and I'm frightened, Harry. I'm absolutely fucking terrified._

As Harry set the letter down, the phone rang. He lifted the phone.

"Hello?"

"Bloody plane's been delayed, we won't be home until tomorrow." Then he hung up. Harry sat, the phone still in his hand, in shock.

"I could've helped him," he said, guilt flooding every cell in his body.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing.

Author's note: AAAAH!! I've finally updated! HUGE apologies to those who have been patiently waiting for an update, I am well aware that it's been well over a year since I put chapter three up, but I've honestly been swamped with AS levels as well as other commitments and this has really taken a backseat.

Obviously, DH came out over a year ago, about a month after I started thinking about this story, so clearly some of the content is different from canon. But that's okay! It happens, it's fanfiction, so don't get up in arms about it.

I shall try my hardest not to leave it a year before the next update (heh heh... oops), and I really hope that, to those of you who have been following it, it's worth the rather large wait.

Now (and I'm so excited to be writing this bit): read, review, enjoy!__

_**That summer**_

Draco slumped to the floor, panting. His wand was held limply in his right hand, his normally perfect blonde hair dishevelled. His brow was covered with a sheen of perspiration and his heart thumped in his chest.

"Please. Just one break." The man laughed.

"Come now, Draco. Lost all your fight? You know the Dark Lord won't honour someone who asks for a rest mid-way through the battle."

No longer satisfied with beating him each night, Lucius' cronies decided to give him "practice" sessions to prepare him for the battle ahead. They worked in shifts, five people working 4 hour-long shifts. Four hours sleep, then the next lot would come in. It was easy enough for them; they just stood there, throwing curses and hexes at Draco. They knew that he was unable to retaliate, so this became their new form of punishment. Twenty hours of masked men, pretending to be helping Draco as they hit him with some of the worst curses known to man that wouldn't quite land them in Azkaban. Given the choice, Draco would've taken the beatings over this, but he wasn't given that particular option.

"Get up," the man commanded, "Or do I have to force you?" Draco's eyes met his. "Well?"

"No, _sir_." Draco gritted his teeth and slowly made to stand up, each muscle burning as he forced it to work again. The man smiled slowly.

"Good. Now. Prepare to duel. Wand at the ready." Seeing the look of sheer exhaustion on Draco's face, his voice took a patronising tone. "Ahh, look, the poor little man's tired." He walked over to Draco and cupped his chin in his hands. Cold eyes met steel as Draco glared at his tormentor. "Are you sleepy? Poor little boy. Do you know," he said to his companion, who was waiting for his shift to start, "I think young master Malfoy's gone a bit soft. I don't think he wants to help the Dark Lord." He tutted. "Dear dear me, but his father will be _so_ disappointed."

In a flash, Draco got to his feet, adrenaline spurring his muscles to work. He threw the Death Eater against the wall, his wand under his chin. "If you even _think_ about speaking to my father about this..."

"I wouldn't worry too much, my friend, his bark's worse than his bite," the other man laughed. Draco dropped his wand in disgust as he realised that the man was right. He slowly returned to his original position, refusing to meet the other's glance.

"That wasn't very nice, Draco," the man said softly. "I would take that back, if I were you."

"I'm sorry," Draco said, looking at the floor, hands shaking.

"Yes," the man said thoughtfully. "I should think so. Now, Nott, I believe it's your turn, is it not?" The man named Nott rose from the armchair he had claimed.

"Absolutely," he said, and the primal note in his voice made Draco shudder. "And, although you were rude to my friend, I shall allow you five minutes to prepare yourself for my shift. Don't even try to escape, there are plenty of us around the country to make sure you're returned home safely." He grinned and Draco turned on his heel quickly to be away from that look.

He ran upstairs to his room. A white owl tapped at the window, a letter attached to her foot. Draco frowned. He knew he recognised the owl, but couldn't place where from. He opened the window, took the letter and hastily unfolded the parchment.

_Draco-_

_I'm so sorry about... Well, you know when. I wish I could've helped you, really I do. That letter scared the shit out of me – was it bad? Do you need help? I __**can**__ help you, Draco, there's a place I could take you where they wouldn't be able to find you. Please tell me what I can do. I feel awful. If you need to see me again, like in London... just owl me. I promise. Say the place and I'll be there._

_Harry._

"Honestly, Potter," Draco said to himself. "Too little, too saccharine – and too late." He scribbled a note on a scrap of parchment.

_There's nothing you can do. I'm on house arrest twenty hours a day with enough Death Eaters scattered around the country to keep me within these walls for the other four. If you really want to help me... You're going to need a miracle._

He tied his response to his owl's leg and practically threw her out of the window to get her to go. She hooted to show her indignation and took off into the cool night air. Was it night already? He had no idea what time it was anymore, the clocks in the manor had all been stopped, the heavy curtains in his prison drawn, and he had been pulled out of bed before he could see what colour the sky was. He heard heavy footsteps, felt a rough hand on his shoulder and was dragged back to the hall to further his "practice."

_**In school**_

The ball was fast approaching, and while everyone else worried about whom they were going with and what they were going as, Harry was rather preoccupied with the state of his unexpected ally. The letter Draco had sent him outlining his imprisonment had been the last letter he'd received, despite the many notes Harry had sent after, each more desperate than the last.

"Harry? Harry..." Hermione was snapping her fingers in front of his face. "What are you thinking about? We lost you then!" The three were sat in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room, Ron having "bagsied" (a Muggle practice Hermione would later blame Harry for) the armchair. Hermione and Harry were sharing the sofa, Harry stuck between two sets of worried-looking eyes.

"Oh, nothing, just... you know..." he said listlessly. Hermione frowned, her lips forming a tight line not unlike Madame Pince's.

"Hm. Well, Ron was wondering if you were still planning on being a, what was it, Ron?"

"A sad old git."

"That's it, a sad old git and going to the ball on your own, or whether you're going to, um..."

"Get a pair and ask out whoever it is you're pining after."

"Quite."

"No."

"Ah. Um, why not?"

"I don't know, Hermione. Has Ron 'got a pair' and finally asked you, or is he going to sulk about you going with some other bloke while he's stuck with Laven... Oh, hi, Lavender..."

Hermione and Ron both flushed and Lavender stormed off, muttering, "Fine, it's not like I was planning on asking you or anything, Harry, you just treat me like shit, see if I care..."

"Look," Ron said angrily. "I don't know what the hell your problem is recently, but you need to sort it out now. You're acting like we're second years again, staring at Malfoy constantly. You don't even realise you're doing it, do you? The four of us have agreed to a mutual loathing in return for some peace in our last year... Yes, I am aware of how ironic that is 'given the circumstances', Hermione, you don't need to point it out to me."

"Ron," Harry said quietly. "Could you please just leave me alone for a bit?"

"This is your problem! You don't sort things out, you just sit and sulk and don't let us in. We're your _friends_, Harry, this is what we're here for. If Draco's done something to piss you off, tell us. If you're worried about Voldemort, tell us. If all it is is that you fancy someone, _tell us_. It's all well and good to want space when you're angry, but if you push your friends away without telling them what's wrong, then we won't be here for you when everything's right."

"He's right, Harry," Hermione said gently, putting a hand on his knee. "As ironic as it is that Ron's telling you off for being sulky and refusing to open up," she flashed a look his direction, "what he's saying is true. Tell us what's wrong."

"I wish I could tell you," Harry said softly, his hair falling in his eyes. "But I can't. I... I just can't. I've got to go." He stood up and left the common room.

Hermione sighed. "Leave him alone, Ron. He'll tell us when he's ready." Ron scowled. There was a very heavy pause between the two of them. After staring at the ceiling, the floor and the walls, Hermione scooted closer to Ron from where she was on the sofa and said, so quietly Ron couldn't be sure she'd actually said it, "So what's this about the ball, then?", causing Ron's face to erupt into red and his shoes to become utterly engrossing.

Harry wandered aimlessly through the building, rarely bumping into students, which he was grateful for. He had no plans as to where he was walking, but only when he stopped did he realise that he was standing in front of the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

_He's not going to be there and even if he was, what exactly am I planning on doing?_ The voice in his head brought him back to reality, and just as he was turning around to go outside he heard a voice.

"Potter?" Harry turned around to see Draco, looking just as surprised as he was. "What are you doing here?"

"You never replied to my letters," Harry said, only realising how desperate that sounded when it came out of his mouth, with a whiny tone to boot.

"What letter_s_?" Draco asked, placing emphasis on the 's'. "I got the one apologising and then nothing." Harry's mouth fell open in shock.

"I sent about ten after that, each asking you if it was safe to get you this time. When you didn't respond... But I never even thought that you might never have received them... Draco, what _happened_?"

Draco looked at the floor. "This really isn't the safest place for you and I to be talking," he said.

"Yeah, I know, right in front of your common room," Harry said sheepishly.

"How do you ... Never mind. No, it's not safe in school at all. Voldemort's put spies all over Hogwarts to ensure that anyone related to his followers doesn't tell others what his plans are."

"What? How? Who?"

"Do you really think that I have the slightest clue as to who these people are? I'm the one who failed him, remember? The only reason I'm being kept alive is because my father is one of the more loyal of his followers."

"You look like you're barely being kept alive," Harry said quietly, gently running a long finger down a scar on Draco's jawline. He pushed his hand away impatiently.

"Look, I can't tell you anything here. But, and don't ask me how or why I know this, the people who are here to keep an eye out won't be in Hogwarts at Halloween. We can talk then, at the ball." Harry nodded silently. The two parted ways when Draco called, "Oh, and Potter?" Harry turned around. "What are you planning on wearing to the ball?"

Harry frowned. "Why?" he asked, suspiciously.

"No reason. Just thought we could match," Draco said, and Harry wasn't sure whether it was just a trick of the light, but he could've sworn that he winked.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Still not mine. Gutted ]:

Author's note: I bet you're getting fed up of all my apologies for leaving it a year between updates, aren't you?

On to the show!

* * *

The excitement in the weeks and days leading up to the Ball was palpable. Gossip about who had asked whom, and who was dressing up as what flitted between the Houses, the years – even the teachers. At one dinner, Professor McGonagall was overheard whispering to Professor Flitwick the rumour that one of the students in the fourth year had dared to ask a seventh year to be their date, and that Ron Weasley had not been entirely impressed.

"Of course," she muttered, glancing around to check that no one else was listening, feeling like she was seventeen again, "she said no. Let him down very easily, as can be expected. Nobody's said who it was, but judging by Mr Weasley's reaction," another sly glance around, "it would be fair to assume it was Miss Granger."

It was at that same dinner that Harry, quietly eating his chicken pie with the bashful not-quite-couple, received a note. Right in his pumpkin juice. He fished it out and absentmindedly dried it off with a quick charm. There was no sign of who it was from, but once Harry opened the note, he knew – he recognised the handwriting like it was his own.

_Had any ideas about what you're going as?_

Harry looked around at the Slytherin table, but the sender of the note was very deliberately not meeting his eye. Harry sighed and quickly replied,

_Dunno. Again – why?_

He flicked his wand and floated it towards the original sender. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw a pale hand dart out and grab the note before it was noticed by the other diners at that table.

"Harry!"

"It's no use Hermione, he's spacing out again." Harry focused on his friends.

"What's wrong?"

"Ron was just wondering if you'd had any inspiration for the Ball as he's got no idea of what to wear."

"That's not true, I was going to go as a Quidditch player." Hermione sighed.

"Ron, it's an unofficial rule that couples dress in costumes that go together. You know, Romeo and Juliet, Bonnie and Clyde..."

"Who?"

"Wait, a Quidditch player?" Harry interrupted their bickering.

"Yeah, a Keeper. Why, were you going to go as a Seeker?"

A piece of paper hovered by Ron's ear. Harry twitched his wand and it went back to the sender, who caught it and nodded subtly.

"Oh Harry, you really ought to. Because then Ron can go as something that **I** can match with," Hermione said, pointedly.

"If you want to go as that, it's fine with me," Ron sighed. Hermione beamed.

"Is that okay? Cause if I was a Seeker and you were a Keeper..."

Ron held up his hand. "Don't. Go there." Harry smiled. "There are enough rumours about me at the moment without adding 'Harry Potter's secret boyfriend' to the list." Ron pulled a sour face. Hermione kissed his cheek, causing his face to turn a rather attractive shade of red.

"There's an idea, Ron – you could go as fire and Hermione as ice." As the two of them looked at each other, silently weighing up the possibility, the note zoomed towards Harry and, with the reflexes that could only be honed by training as a Seeker, grabbed it before Ron or Hermione could look back. He unfolded the note as Hermione began to babble excitedly about what their costumes could look like.

"Oh, it's such a good idea! Ron, write to your mum, I'm sure she'd be able to give us some ideas... Actually, I'll write to her. I wonder if I could wear the dress I wore to the Yule Ball..."

Harry surreptitiously read the note under the table, eyes darting up occasionally to check that neither Ron nor Hermione were looking up at him.

_Like I said, maybe we could match._

Harry scribbled a reply quickly, keeping an eye on the two opposite him.

_Well, I was thinking of going as a Seeker. I've got the costume, after all. If you wanted to match, you could go as a Slytherin Seeker, and if anyone asks why we've matched, you can pretend to get in a strop. I'll even let you throw the first hex – God knows you need your friends to think you're tough. Anyway, why do you want to match? Isn't that the idea for couples?_

Harry quickly floated the note back to Draco. He didn't wait to see if he'd catch it – Draco's reflexes were at least as good as Harry's. Over Ron's shoulder, he saw the corners of the blonde's mouth turn up in a ghost of a smile.

"We're going back to the Common Room, Harry. You coming with us?" Harry looked back at Hermione.

"Oh, no, you two go on without me, I'll be up in a minute. Just have to do something a second." Hermione gave Harry a very significant look as she walked past. A note flew towards Harry, narrowly missing getting stuck in Hermione's the two of them gone, Harry opened it and read it quickly.

_Very funny Potter. Because you're such a tough guy, I'm sure. Well, I thought we could match as a symbol of the two of us being on better terms. Oh god, I sound like a desperate first year... 'Can I be your friend?' I hate that you reduce me to this Harry... Anyway, thanks for the heads up, I'll be sure not to disappoint. Oh and by the way – your friends and mine might not have noticed this, but our Heads of House certainly have. Just a warning._

Harry stuffed the note into his trouser pocket and stood up from his seat quickly, chancing a look at the table where the teachers sat. McGonagall and Snape quickly looked away.

"God, these teachers are worse than the students with gossip sometimes..." Harry muttered, ostensibly to himself, but it was no coincidence that this was uttered as he walked past the Slytherin table. He heard Draco laugh quietly, and he was suddenly taken back to the day they'd spent together in the summer, smiling to himself as he remembered how Draco's seldom seen smile lit up his face in a way that his trademark smirk never could.

With Harry out of the Great Hall, McGonagall and Snape turned back to each other. "When," Professor McGonagall asked, "will those two just admit the truth to each other?" Snape shook his head, but whether that was as an answer to her question or in disbelief at how much of a gossip his colleague was turning out to be, was uncertain. She couldn't help it. Excitement and anticipation was heavy in the air, and the gossip it spawned was infectious.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's note: Here it is, the beginning of the Ball! There is a lot of description here, because I wanted to evoke the feeling of a Hall full of excitable seventh years; properly describe what I hoped Hermione would look like if she dressed as ice; and the feeling of a crowded dancefloor full of slightly tipsy seventeen year olds :P

Additionally, **Butterbooze** is not my own idea; I read it in a story years ago and thought it was such a great idea. Unfortunately, I've lost the name of the story and author that mentioned Butterbooze so I can't properly credit them for this genius idea ]:

And if you're wondering what a WAG is, google it! :P

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the story and, as ever, I own nothing. Boo.

* * *

Finally, the day of the Ball arrived. The teachers of the seventh year classes gave up on lessons and allowed them to have the day off. Flitwick roped his fourth years into charming pumpkins over the candles in the Great Hall, McGonagall was trying, without much success, to persuade the house ghosts to pretend to be menacing, and Snape was looking down his nose as he was designated the task of mixing the punch. The excitement wasn't limited to those attending the Ball however; every common room was full of students, buzzing about what costumes would be worn. The Gryffindor common room, especially, was excitable. It had become common knowledge that Harry was going to the Ball alone, and many of the younger year girls were plotting to accost him there. What they weren't aware of was the age bar that Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Blair had put in place to prevent this very thing from occurring.

Some of the seventh years had taken advantage of the day off they had been given and went into the centre of Hogsmede, bribing the locals to buy them vast crates of Butterbooze for the pre-Ball parties that were happening in every common room. Dean, Ron and Seamus returned to the Common Room with their crate hidden under Harry and Ron's Quidditch robes, which had "gone to be washed".

"Honestly Ron, you're not planning on getting completely drunk before the Ball, are you?" Hermione asked, disapprovingly.

"Not completely..." Ron said, evasively. "To be fair, Hermione, if we didn't drink something, we'd be the only ones who didn't."

Hermione sighed. "Well, just... Just keep them hidden from the lower years, the last thing we really need is for them to be drinking this stuff." Ron kissed her on the cheek and she flushed.

The dinner in the Hall was a rowdy affair: seventh years moved between House tables to speak to friends and dates, asking about costumes, what kind of music they expected to be played and, most importantly, who they were hoping to dance with. If the teachers had expected this to improve inter-house relations, they couldn't have hoped for a better result. Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, so frequently rivals due the intellectual nature of both houses, could hardly reach the other's table fast enough to breathlessly ask the questions on everyone's lips: "Who are you going with? What are you going as?" Even the Slytherins looked vaguely excited about the night to come. The only two people who weren't leaping from table to table were Harry and Draco, who exchanged weary looks across the aisle between them as the noise of their fellow students rose to a crescendo before Professor McGonagall decided that enough was enough.

"Seventh year students will return to their House tables now, or they will not be permitted to attend the Ball." The noise dropped and everyone quickly found their seats. "My staff have heard rumours that several of you have purchased alcoholic drinks for consumption before the Ball begins." Isolated groups of distinctly masculine cheers, one per House table, broke out following this announcement. "While it is not within our power to prevent you seventh years from drinking it, if we suspect that you are significantly intoxicated you will not be allowed to come to the Ball. We are trusting you to be sensible. This was designed to be an evening where relations between houses can strengthen, please don't spoil it for everyone. As a further deterrent, anybody who is sick as a result of the over consumption of alcohol will clean it up themselves – and by that, I mean without the use of magic. Consider yourselves warned! But, on a less dreary note, please enjoy yourselves tonight."

The seventh years cheered as Professor McGonagall sat down. The noise steadily rose again, with students leaning and shouting across tables to continue their conversations. Professor Snape, whose patience had been worn thin by standing over a cauldron mixing pumpkin and cinnamon punch all day stood up and announced that all seventh years "might as well go to their Common Rooms to allow everyone else to eat their meals in peace." The dinner plates rattled as the seventh years cheered even louder, running out of the Hall to their respective Common Rooms.

As Harry went to catch up with Ron and Hermione, he felt a cool hand grab the top of his arm and pull him backwards. He spun around to face the person responsible and found himself nose-to-nose with Malfoy. Draco opened his mouth as if he was going to say something important, before changing his mind and shutting it again.

"I... I'll see you later, Harry. Keep an eye out for me." This was addressed to a candle sconce somewhere above Harry's left ear. Harry nodded.

"Yeah, see you there, Draco." The two nodded and went their separate ways, each occasionally looking back. Harry caught up with Hermione and Ron, who looked at him questioningly. Harry shook his head, and Ron shrugged in response. Seventh year couples and groups of friends not in the same House shouted arrangements to meet up before the Ball began.

The Gryffindor common room was deserted, empty Butterbooze bottles scattered on the floor. The girls and boys of the seventh year were in their respective dormitories, excitedly getting dressed. While the boys took a matter of minutes to get ready, the girls were taking significantly longer. Their giggles and gasps of astonishment somehow managed to reach the boy's ears and they unanimously shook their heads in disbelief.

"When are you meeting your girlfriend then, Dean?" Harry asked.

"She'll be waiting outside the Fat Lady soon, I think," Dean replied.

"What exactly are you going as?" Ron asked Dean, prodding his shirt gingerly.

"Oh, West Ham striker," he answered, but was met by blank stares. "Football," he furthered.

"Ohh..." the Gryffindor boys chorused.

"So, what's Hannah going as?" Harry asked, pulling his Quidditch robes on.

Dean laughed. "A WAG." The blank stares continued. "Forget it... What's Hermione going as, Ron?"

"Ice," he replied, blushing. "Some smart-arse suggested it and she decided that she'd much rather do that than my suggestion."

Harry laughed. "Ron, she'd have been quite limited if you'd gone as a Keeper. What would she have gone as – a goal hoop?" Ron crossed his arms, pouting.

A series of sharp raps on the dormitory door and a group of giggles greeted the boys, who had been long dressed and waiting for the girls to finally be ready. Harry opened the door warily.

"Hi Harry," Hermione called breathlessly, excitement tinting her cheeks pink. "Is Ron ready?"

"Hi, Hermione," Ron replied, somewhat shyly. "You look... amazing." Hermione blushed even further and smiled.

"You don't look so bad yourself." The two stared into each other's eyes, while the other girls squeezed past them to appraise their fellow Gryffindors.

Harry did have to admit, Hermione did look stunning. Her ice-blue dress swept the floor, layer upon layer of chiffon building to give the dress gentle movement, accents of silver making it shimmer. Her hair was twirled up into a simple bun, with enchanted icicles holding it in place like chopsticks. Her earrings were made of these enchanted icicles too, dropping down a centimetre above her shoulders, a delicate silver necklace bringing the sparkles out in her brown eyes. Silver and blue eyeshadow were swirled together to create a frosty colour on her eyelids, with highlighter on her cheeks making her cheekbones sparkle with a sort of other-worldly beauty. Ron's costume, which had looked utterly ridiculous, suddenly made sense when he was stood next to Hermione. He wore a red and orange waistcoat over a black shirt, with deep burgundy trousers and black shoes. Gold was subtly streaked into his hair.

"It's time," Lavender squealed, and ran out of the dormitory and into the common room. The rest of the seventh years followed her excitedly. Several bottles of Butterbooze had lifted everyone's spirits and loosened Hermione's inhibitions. She had her fingers entwined with Ron's and kissed him as they attempted the stairs leading from the dorms to the common room. Harry waited at the back of the seventh years, in no particular hurry to get to the Ball. As they left the common room, Dean met up with Hannah, who was a very unusual shade of orange, with a white miniskirt and bright pink top, wearing obscenely high heels.

"I guess that's what a WAG is," Ron called over his shoulder to Harry. Seventh years in all sorts of costumes poured out of portrait doors, hidden passages and onto moving staircases. Harry found himself searching for Draco – not that he had the slightest clue what he was wearing. The noise was, once again, reaching fever pitch as the seventh years reached the door to the Great Hall.

As they stepped over the threshold into the Hall, mouths fell open in awe of what had been done. Over every candle that floated above the tables was a smiling pumpkin, bats flew in the dark sky and the massive cauldron containing the pumpkin and cinnamon punch dominated the stage, flames licking the bottom dramatically. The long tables had been removed to make room for a dancefloor, with a group of smaller, circular tables arranged around the edge.

A few younger students throughout the school had tagged along, hoping to get into the party. When they saw that there were no teachers guarding the entrance, they felt sure that they would be successful. A couple of confident Gryffindor girls stepped up to the door, took one step forwards and were thrown backwards by the age bar put in place by the teachers. Professor McGonagall came rushing out and had a few choice words with the girls as the other younger students skulked off into the shadows, hoping they hadn't been spotted.

Once the entire year was inside the Hall, the music started, playing an eclectic mix of Muggle and wizard music, combined by one of the up-and-coming DJs of the wizard music scene. Harry was carried forward by the surge of people onto the dancefloor, feeling more and more claustrophobic as bodies pressed against him. Head swimming, he disentangled himself from those around him, fighting through the throng to find Ron and Hermione, who were stood on the fringe of the crowd, dancing together. Before he could reach them, Parvati Patil, dressed as a Bollywood dancer, grabbed his hand and started dancing with him, wrapping her arms around his neck and grinding her hips into him. Harry gently unlaced her fingers from around his neck, whispered something into her ear and continued trying to find Ron and Hermione, extricating himself from various girls who tried to get him to dance with them. He eventually found the two of them and tapped Ron on the shoulder.

"I'm going outside to get some air," he mouthed. Ron nodded and went back to dancing with Hermione.

He went through the doors that led him outside and found a bench to sit on. Taking several deep breaths to steady his heart, he put his head in his hands.

_What was I expecting, that he'd come up to me and tell me about all his problems then and there? Why do I even care where he is, or what his problems are? The two of us functioned perfectly well without each other for the last six years, why do I now suddenly care about him?_ Harry groaned in frustration.

A cold hand tapped Harry's shoulder. He turned around and saw a gently swaying Draco. Painted gold. Wearing a pair of gold shorts and tiny white wings on his back.

"Draco, what the hell are you supposed to be?" Harry asked, incredulously.

"I'm the Snitch. Catch me."


	7. Chapter 7

Author's note: I don't own Harry Potter, neither do I own Romeo and Juliet.

Also, the T rating comes into force a bit here, so if slash gets you when it's not just hinted at, now's the time to leave, really.

Ooh, aren't you lucky, two updates in one day! Study leave? Nah...

Well, the downside of this chapter is that a plot bunny hopped into my head when I was starting it, so my initial plan has been scuppered somewhat by this chapter. But it's okay! Nothing drastic has changed as a result of this, I'll just edit the plan to fit with this :P Spontaneous plot is much better than one that's planned so thoroughly you don't allow these plot bunnies to bite, after all.

Read, review, enjoy!

* * *

Harry was rather surprised by his reaction. He didn't run away, punch Draco or hex him. Instead, he sat, gaping at the blonde in front of him.

"Come on Potter, I don't give this offer to just anyone," Draco drawled, smiling lasciviously. He lost his balance and pitched forwards. Harry quickly grabbed his elbow.

"I think you need to walk about a bit, Draco, clear some of the drink from your system."

"Not drunk," Draco said, clearly put out.

Harry raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest, heart racing and hands shaking from the shock of it all. "No? Well, of course you're not, you just came on to me for gits and shiggles."

"_I'm_drunk? What the hell are shiggles when they're at home?"

"Sorry I'm not making sense Draco; it's just that I'm a little bit confused as to why the hell you're drunkenly flirting with me." Draco smiled again and straightened up.

"I'm very," he walked purposefully towards Harry, hips first, "very," he leaned down so Harry could feel Draco's cool breath on his face, "very _not_ drunk. If I'm totally honest, I've been waiting and wanting to do this." Draco leaned in further so his lips were inches from Harry's. Harry responded instinctively, and inclined his head to meet Draco's lips. Suddenly, his subconscious stepped in and he pulled back.

"No."

Draco stopped, confused. "I thought..."

Harry ran his hands through his hair. "I don't know, Draco. You've made me confused now. Are you gay or straight, am _I_ gay or straight; are you drunk or sober; if you're drunk is this just because you're drunk, if you're sober is this because you've actually wanted this..." Draco sat next to him and put his arm around Harry's shoulder.

"If you're confused, that generally means you have thought about this. Have you... thought about, you know... us? Together?" The concern in Draco's eyes hit Harry's heart and Draco could tell he didn't need to ask anything else. "You know what? Never mind. We can just sit here quietly."

For seconds, minutes, hours, Harry didn't know, he and Draco sat together as the bass line pounded in the Hall. Occasionally, stumbling couples would blunder out of the door and into Draco and Harry's sanctum, before giggling and bashfully saying, "Oops, sorry! Didn't mean to intrude..."

Harry shifted in his seat and Draco released his arm, slate eyes looking questioningly into green ones. "Come on," Harry said, standing up and holding his hand out. "We should join the party again." Draco took Harry's hand as they stood up, eye to eye. Harry had never noticed how muscular Draco was – not that he'd ever had a chance before to appreciate that particular aspect of Draco's appearance.

_Fuck it,_ thought Harry, _it's not like I've never considered it. If he's drunk, he'll forget about it, and if he's sober, surely we're past the stage where he'd do something like this just to torment me tomorrow morning._

"Draco," Harry murmured. Draco was lost in thought, thinking much the same thing. Harry pulled the blonde close to him and wrapped his arms around Draco's neck, resting his forehead against Draco's. Draco's hands skimmed along Harry's arms, down his sides and around his hips, pulling them even closer together.

"I've never done this before," Harry whispered.

"Easy as breathing," Draco said, and contradicted himself when his breath hitched in his throat. Here he was, Harry, in his arms, wanting _him_, needing _him_, and, oh God, kissing _him_. Draco had kissed boys before, drunken games in the Common Room, nights out in Muggle London when he was more inebriated, even an ill-advised relationship with one of the seventh year Slytherins back in his fifth year, when he was experimenting. But none of these compared to Harry's kiss. Slow, deliberate and passionate, he could only assume that when he'd said he hadn't done this before, he was referring to kissing a boy rather than kissing at all. Harry's tongue ran along Draco's teeth and Draco arched into Harry, moving his hands from Harry's hips to his buttocks, groaning into Harry's mouth.

"God, Harry..." Harry took this as encouragement and kissed Draco harder, his glasses pressing against Draco's head. Draco hardly knew what to do with his hands, skimming up Harry's back, over his shoulder blades, gripping his shoulders.

Harry broke apart and took Draco's hands, straightening their arms and chastely kissing Draco. Draco ran his fingers over Harry's strong jawline and the two smiled.

"If I wasn't gay before, I'd definitely be now," Draco whispered. Harry laughed breathlessly and wrapped Draco's arms around his waist.

"I'm feeling a little less confused myself," Harry admitted. "We should probably go in to the Ball now, Ron and Hermione might have noticed I've been gone. Maybe." Draco laughed and kissed Harry where his jaw met his neck, eliciting a soft moan from Harry.

"So. Did I catch you?" Harry asked as the two walked back towards the Hall.

"From that day in the summer, I was yours," Draco murmured. Harry had force himself not to turn around and throw Draco on the floor then and there as they came closer to the entrance of the Great Hall.

"About this," Draco said in the last seconds of privacy they had. "Are you ready to come out, or do you need time?"

"I need time," Harry sighed. "I've only just realised – I mean that was so much better than anything with Cho or Ginny – but..."

"I understand. When you're ready, I'll be here, waiting." Harry frowned.

"I only said I wasn't ready to tell everyone about me, not that I wanted to stop seeing you." Draco's heart soared and he stole a quick kiss before they went through the door.

"I'll go through the other door," Draco said, turning towards the other entrance. Harry maintained his grip on Draco's hand, and Draco turned around and kissed him again in the shadows.

"Harry, I really should go..." Harry's mouth clamped on Draco, his strong, Quidditch-trained arms holding Draco there by his side. "Well, I'm all for this being revealed to the whole year at once, but you're the one who wants to wait..." Harry reluctantly let go of Draco's hand. Draco blew him a kiss.

"Good night, good night, parting is such sweet sorrow," Draco called. Harry smiled and turned back towards the Hall and went through the doors.

Suddenly, it was like everything had come into focus. What he felt for Draco, what he had always felt, in some way or another, was hardly different from what Ron and Hermione had. Hate wasn't the opposite of love, indifference was, and Harry had never been indifferent about Draco. Since that summer, every dream had been about Draco; every meal had been about seeing Draco; every excursion from the Common Room had been about the possibility of bumping into Draco. He smiled, basking in the glow he still felt from those precious moments with him. If nothing happened with Draco after tonight, at least his first experience was one he'd always remember with someone he'd never forget.

"Harry!" Hermione waved and Harry came over to see her. "Harry, where have you _been_? We've been looking all over for you."

Ron shook his head behind Hermione, mouthing, "total bollocks". Harry laughed.

"Ron begs to differ, Hermione." Hermione turned to face a rather shame-faced Ron.

"Well, it's not totally true, is it? ... I'll get you a drink." Ron shuffled off.

"Harry, what's this?" Hermione said, running her finger down Harry's Quidditch robes, showing him a fingertip coated in gold. "Turn around a second." Harry did so and she gasped. "Harry, what the hell have you been doing?" At that moment, Draco walked behind Harry, and Hermione's quick-acting brain put two and two together and got, surprisingly, the wrong answer.

"Harry, the idea about this Ball was that it'd improve inter-House relations, not spur another fight between the two hottest tempered people in the school!"

"Actually, Hermione – "

"No, I don't care what excuse you're giving this time. This is beyond ridiculous. You're seventeen, you really need to be controlling your temper better."

"Hermione – "

"What?"

"What Harry's trying to say is that the two of us weren't fighting at all." Draco had snuck up behind Harry and, safe in the darkness of the Hall, protected by the other people around them, wrapped his arms around Harry's waist. "We were doing quite the opposite."

Hermione's mouth fell open into a perfect little _o_ of surprise.

"Don't tell Ron, I'm not ready for everyone to know. The fact that it's Draco will push him that bit too far."

"No... Of course... Harry, are you_ sure_?"

Harry smiled. "Completely."

Hermione beamed. "I'm so glad you're happy. Goodness knows you deserve it." Harry relaxed even further and released himself from Draco's arms. Draco brushed a kiss against the back of Harry's head and moved silently away. Harry drew Hermione into a tight hug.

"Thank you," he whispered into her hair. Hermione tightened the hug.

"When you're ready to tell Ron, you know I'm on your side, right?" Harry pulled back.

"I know. You're the voice of reason with the three of us, remember?"

"Speaking of reason, you're absolutely positive this wasn't just a drunken fling? I'm just looking out for you."

"He wasn't drunk, I know it. We're beyond the stage where he'd do something like that just to torture me. And, if I'm honest, I think I've wanted this for a long time."

"Since summer, I would guess," Hermione said, arching an eyebrow knowingly. "I'm not stupid, Harry, I just wanted to wait for you to tell me." Harry smiled and Hermione winked. "Now, I should probably go and find my boyfriend – Gosh, it feels strange to say that!"

"Me too," said Harry, and the two laughed. "I'm so glad it's you who knows, Hermione."

"I'm glad it's me you decided to tell," she said. "Enjoy the rest of the dance – you might want to stay away from anyone who could work out the link between the gold paint on your clothes and the gold paint on Draco." Harry laughed and gave Hermione another hug.

"Oi, get your hands off her!" Ron came thundering towards Harry.

"I don't think you really need to worry about Harry stealing me away from you," Hermione said, conspiratorially. Harry widened his eyes at her, and Hermione quickly got the hint, grabbing Ron's free hand and pulling him onto the dancefloor as the DJ began to play an upbeat Muggle tune.

"On your own again?" a soft voice breathed into the nape of Harry's neck, sending shivers down his spine.

"Not for much longer," Harry whispered. Draco slyly pulled Harry into the dancefloor.

The two danced together, safe in the knowledge that the other students were either too engrossed in their own partners or too drunk to be able to notice, let alone remember the next morning that the two greatest rivals in modern Hogwarts history had danced together all night, apart from the times when both with absent from the Hall and soft laughter rang in the cool, crisp night air.


End file.
